


Sherlock: Ice Cream

by IBegToDreamAndDiffer



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Attraction, Character Mentions, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Food Play, M/M, Oral Sex, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-06
Updated: 2012-03-06
Packaged: 2017-11-01 13:45:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/357471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IBegToDreamAndDiffer/pseuds/IBegToDreamAndDiffer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gregory Lestrade had never much looked at Mycroft Holmes... and then the temperature climbed and he saw the man eat an ice cream.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sherlock: Ice Cream

**Author's Note:**

> Ownership: Original characters are owned by Arthur Conan Doyle. These versions are owned by Mark Gatiss and Steven Moffat. I just get to play.

It was nearing midnight when Greg Lestrade exited the elevators in Scotland Yard. Though it was dark it was still incredibly hot and Greg pulled at the collar of his shirt as he headed for his office. It had cooled down, yes, but there was still a muggy air hanging about that had sweat dripping down his back.

Greg paused as he pushed his office door open. Mycroft Holmes was sitting across from his desk, legs crossed, umbrella pushing a file across his desk. Amazingly, the elder Holmes wasn’t wearing his usual attire. Gone was his expensive jacket and waistcoat, replaced by a thin white shirt and slim-fitting trousers. He wasn’t even wearing a tie! It seemed the heat even affected Mycroft Holmes.

Mycroft turned suddenly and Greg managed to avoid his gaze, focusing on getting to his seat and sitting. He’d never really looked at Mycroft Holmes... _looked_ looked. Of course he’d noticed that the man was handsome. He was all tall and slim, powerful and mysterious, with the ability to know exactly what you were thinking. He was smarter than Sherlock and saner, he was... well, better.

But Greg was married... well, _had_ been married. He’d split with his wife just before Christmas and the divorce papers were on the way, he knew. He’d already moved out, had broken the news to his two kids. Dante and Chloe were teenagers, though, and had already known about their mum’s affairs. They hadn’t wanted to tell Greg, had thought they were helping by keeping the secret to themselves.

Well, Greg knew now... he’d also been told by his lovely little children (to Greg, sixteen and seventeen were still little) that he should find a nice man.

Yes, _man_. They were under the assumption that Da was secretly gay. It hadn’t been much of a secret when Greg was in his twenties, fucking his way through the men at nightclubs and bars. But then he’d met Linda and had fallen in love, had stopped his playboy ways.

Now, looking at Mycroft Holmes just sitting there all... all _gorgeous_ , Greg’s younger years were coming back in stunning clarity. He remembered the smooth tones of male muscles, the hot flesh that only a guy could have, and the soft moans, the keening when he sunk in or was buggered over a table.

Greg swallowed and managed to say, ‘Erm... hi.’

Mycroft smiled slowly and Greg paled. Did Mycroft know what he was thinking? Was the older Holmes planning on doing something to make Greg mortified that he’d allowed his thoughts to slip into untested waters?

‘Good evening, Gregory.’

Gregory? Since when the hell did Mycroft call him Gregory? Usually it was Lestrade, or Detective Inspector, and the rare Mr Lestrade when Mycroft felt like being a bastard and not acknowledging his DI title.

‘H-hi.’

‘Yes, you’ve said that,’ the politician murmured, flicking non-existent lint from his cuff.

‘W-what are you doing here?’ Greg asked, trying at another sentence. _Good_ , he thought. _Questions are simple, no need to think about Mycroft naked... too late_.

‘I thought I would drop by and ask if that Alberton Case was wrapped up,’ Mycroft said.

‘Alberton Case?’ Greg asked.

Mycroft smiled again, perfect lips pulled back in an endearing way. _Good Lord_ , Greg thought. _Stop thinking about his lips!_

‘I am aware that Sherlock helped you in the gruesome murder of James Alberton, I was just wondering how it went.’

Greg blinked before chuckling. ‘Like you don’t know.’

Mycroft gave him a knowing smile. ‘While I have the ability to know each and every detail, I’d rather here it from you.’

Greg shrugged and leaned back to recount the case to Mycroft.

It had started fairly straightforward; dead body, no leads, weird bowls filled with soup placed around the dead man like some kind of ritual. Then it got interesting; John gaping because he’d heard about this from an army buddy, then Sherlock’s joy and subsequent stalking of said army buddy.

This was followed by Sherlock serving a short stint in a Scotland Yard cell for stalking, the elder Holmes using his magic politician skills to get his brother out, and Sherlock then hunting down the criminal.

It all ended with a wonderful little swim in the Thames (John’s old army buddy didn’t like being accused of being a murderer on his afternoon walk... even though he _was_ a murderer) that landed Sherlock in hospital with an infection, John fussing over him like a mother, and Greg stuck at work until midnight doing paperwork.

Mycroft chuckled when Greg was done, the DI mopping up his sweaty face with one rolled up sleeve. ‘But Sherlock is okay?’ Mycroft asked.

‘Yeah, just some bug that means he has to take it easy for a few days,’ Greg said. ‘He was throwing up all afternoon and had a weird rash. But John’s taking care of him; I swear, they act like a couple.’

‘Well... in time,’ Mycroft said mysteriously and Greg just smiled. ‘You appear to be uncomfortable, Gregory.’

Greg looked across his desk. ‘Huh?’

‘You’re moving around quite a bit.’

‘Oh,’ Greg said and shifted again. ‘Yeah, well, it’s hot.’ It was partly the truth; it _was_ hot... and Greg’s groin refused to stop thinking about Mycroft Holmes.

‘Hot?’

‘You know; sun blazing, earth melting, hot.’

‘Oh yes,’ Mycroft nodded, twirling his umbrella and looking down at it. ‘It has been strangely warm.’

‘That’s summer,’ Greg shrugged.

‘Mm, here it’s summer. I was in Australia and New Zealand last week and it was beautifully cold.’

‘Ah, yeah, it’s winter in the Sothern Hemisphere, right?’ Greg said and Mycroft nodded. ‘I’d give anything to be there now, I hate summer.’

Mycroft smiled. ‘In summer you can eat ice cream.’

‘Can in winter too,’ Greg said, ‘cuddled up under blankets.’

‘That’s strange.’

Greg smiled. ‘I’m a strange human,’ he said with another shrug.

Mycroft chuckled and they lapsed into silence, the elder Holmes continuing to play with his umbrella. Greg just watched him; looked at the long arms hidden by cloth, the slim shoulders under white cotton, and the way the man’s body seemed to well-poised and just... comfortable. Greg had never been comfortable in his own skin; he felt like at any moment his limbs would do something stupid. But Mycroft, and Sherlock too, moved with a cat-like grace mere mortals could never hope for.

‘Gregory?’

Greg jumped and blushed, realising he’d been staring at Mycroft a bit long. ‘Um... sorry.’

‘What are you apologising for?’

‘Er...’ Greg gulped and said, ‘N-nothing.’

Mycroft smiled again and Greg just wanted to kiss it away. He wanted to taste those lips on his own. God, when the hell had Mycroft Holmes moved from being an acquaintance to a possible shag?

‘Would you care for a lift home, Gregory?’

‘Sorry, paperwork,’ Greg said and gestured at his computer and files.

‘Nonsense, you can do that tomorrow.’

‘I should really do it now.’

Mycroft stood and looked at Greg sternly. ‘Come now, there is no need for you to be here all night.’

Greg opened his mouth to fight back but he suddenly felt tired. Mycroft was right, there was no reason he couldn’t do the paperwork tomorrow. And his new flat had just had air-conditioning installed. He could lay in bed naked and comfortable.

He blushed slightly as he stood and grabbed his jacket, throwing it over one shoulder. ‘Any reason why you are turning red?’ Mycroft asked as Greg led him from the office.

‘Er... it’s very warm,’ Greg lied weakly.

Mycroft just smiled as Greg locked his door.

 

{oOo}

 

The car ride was silent, Mycroft’s expensive vehicle bathed in cool, recirculated air. Greg allowed himself to nod off, the leather seats refreshing against his sweaty cheek. When the car stopped Mycroft actually had to nudge him and Greg rubbed drool from the corner of his mouth.

‘Sorry,’ he said and pushed the door open.

‘Not to worry, you’re quite charming when asleep,’ Mycroft said, following Greg from the car.

Greg didn’t have a response for that as Mycroft followed him up the short steps to his flat. He unlocked the door and stepped into the lobby, going across to his letterbox to check for mail. There was some junk, a bill from Dante’s school (seemed Greg was still doing the ‘paying’ part of parenthood) and a few magazines Greg subscribed to.

It was an older building with no elevator meaning Greg had to trek up a few flights of stairs to get to his flat on the fourth floor. He turned to Mycroft, the man having walked in with him, and said, ‘Well... thanks for the lift.’

Mycroft cocked his head to one side, leaning on his umbrella. His body looked even slimmer and longer than it did when he wore a jacket and waistcoat and Greg couldn’t help letting his eyes drop to take in the man’s slim waist and flat stomach. The shirt stuck to him in a lovely way that had Greg’s throat dry and the DI, regretfully, pulled his eyes away.

‘So... um...’ Greg started when Mycroft failed to speak. ‘D-do you want a drink or something?’

‘That would be lovely,’ Mycroft smiled and turned, setting off up the stairs. Greg followed, eyes locked onto Mycroft’s rather firm looking arse. Did the man _have_ to wear such well-fitting trousers?  
The DI was in a bit of a daze, eyes roaming up and down Mycroft’s back hungrily, and he nearly bumped into the other man when the elder Holmes stopped. ‘I could break in,’ Mycroft said, turning to look at Greg, ‘but I fear that may be rude.’

It took Greg a minute to realise Mycroft was asking him to open the door (in his own weird way). Not bothering to ask how Mycroft knew his exact address, he took out his keys and slid them in with a click, pushing the door open and allowing Mycroft in first.

He was starting to regret asking Mycroft up. The man was all gorgeous and perfect while Greg’s clothes were clinging to him damply. Mycroft looked like it was twenty degrees out, not a hair out of place. Added on was the fact that Mycroft looked very well rested, or at least he hid his tiredness well. Greg was exhausted; bags under his eyes, movements slow, stubble littering his face.

Then there was his flat. It was a definite bachelor pad; takeaway boxes everywhere, DVDs and books left stacked on the small coffee table and next to the toaster. There were clothes and towels thrown over the couch, shoes left wherever Greg had kicked them off.

He tried to stop blushing as Mycroft looked the flat over.

‘Sorry, don’t have much company, it’s a bit messy,’ Greg said.

‘Not to worry, my flat isn’t the epitome of clean-living,’ Mycroft smiled.

Greg very much doubted that. If the elder Holmes’ living space was anything like the man himself everything would be perfect.

‘Um... drinks,’ Greg said and went to his fridge, kicking of his shoes as he did. What he found was a mouldy piece of cheese, a head of lettuce that had turned into brown sludge, and a bottle of mayonnaise. The worst part was that Greg had no recollection of buying any of it... it was slightly worrisome that he’d probably had these things rotting in his fridge for months.

‘Gregory?’ Mycroft questioned.

‘Um...’ the DI repeated and went for the freezer instead. No luck there; ice and a box of ice creams he’d bought the previous day. ‘Ice cream?’ he asked, turning back to Mycroft. ‘It’s either that, ice, or water.’

Mycroft smiled. ‘The weather seems to call for ice cream.’

‘Okay,’ Greg said and peeled the box open. He pulled two out and turned to Mycroft after shutting the freezer door. They opened their ice creams and left the wrappers on the counter, Greg immediately biting into his. It was cookies and cream with an outer layer of milk chocolate, Greg’s favourite.

It was glorious. Greg had always loved ice cream and it had been exceedingly hot over the past week. The ice cream was working its magic, melting on Greg’s tongue as he sucked the treat between his lips. He felt much cooler then he had all day.

Greg realised he was probably being rude and looked up at Mycroft, licking his lips to try and start a conversation.

He froze, though, when he set eyes on the elder Holmes. He’d already devoured the outer layer of chocolate and was happily lapping at the ice cream filling, tongue slipping out to lick long strips and expose the little crushed up cookies. Greg’s mouth dropped open as the tip of the ice cream pushed past Mycroft’s lips. The politician made a soft sucking noise that went straight to Greg’s cock.

How could anyone look that good eating ice cream? It was unnatural, it was weird, it was... Greg had never been this hard in his life. Mycroft’s soft, pink tongue continued to wrap around the ice cream and spread saliva and melted cream before disappearing between plump and probably cold lips. Greg had never been so attracted to someone and he nearly groaned as Mycroft finished half his ice cream.

_Don’t let it end_ , he thought as melted ice cream dripped down his fingers, _please God let it be a never-ending ice cream_.

He was absolutely absorbed watching the elder Holmes eat, unconsciously licking his tongue as his erection strained annoyingly at his trousers. Surely Mycroft had never eaten like that before. Greg had had many dinners over the years with the tall man... his tongue had _never_ flicked across food like that, had never wrapped and darted and just... Greg drooped slightly, legs feeling weak as Mycroft lapped at the ice cream.

And then the worst happened; Mycroft’s ice cream mostly gone, the stick noticeable, the elder Holmes stuck the entire thing in his mouth and sucked back.

It was then that Greg moaned quite loudly and Mycroft turned to look at him. Greg didn’t notice, eyes stuck on Mycroft’s lips as the ice cream and stick reappeared, now almost completely gone as Mycroft swallowed.

‘Gregory?’

Greg blinked and looked up through the lusty haze that had descended on his brain. A flicker of realisation went through the politician’s eyes and his perfect lips pulled back in a smile. As Greg tried to get control of himself, a blush already working over his face, Mycroft put the tip of the stick back to his lips.

Greg watched as Mycroft slowly, deliberately slowly, pushed the treat back into his mouth, cream building up on his lips as the entire thing was swallowed by that delicious looking mouth. Greg gulped as Mycroft sucked back harder than before, images of the genius doing that to Greg’s cock filling the DI’s head. Greg could see Mycroft’s tongue and throat working as the politician cleaned the stick completely, making soft sounds of enjoyment and very dirty sucking sounds.

When Mycroft removed the stick it was clean, only a light ring of chocolate around the base. Mycroft placed the stick on the counter and leaned forward. Greg’s fingers were pried free from his own treat, the ice cream mostly melted. He opened his mouth to apologise, to try and attempt a lie that would explain why he had stared at Mycroft.

Mycroft threw Greg’s half-finished ice cream in the sink and turned to the DI.

‘I...’ Greg tried... ‘I...’

Suddenly his hand was being pulled up and he watched as Mycroft took his index finger between his lips and sucked back.

Greg gasped, heart thundering in his chest as Mycroft sucked the digit right into his mouth. His tongue was cold from the ice cream but quickly warmed as it lapped at Greg’s finger, swirling wonderfully around Greg’s finger nail.

‘Oh God,’ Greg groaned as Mycroft took a second equally ice cream covered finger into his mouth. His lips were in the shape of an O, pressed strongly against Greg’s knuckles, and it made a shiver of pleasure run down Greg’s spine. He started bobbing up and down on Greg’s fingers and it was all the DI could do to stand. He had no idea how this had happened... ice cream... staring... sucking fingers... right, right, that wasn’t insane or anything.

Greg’s fingers slipped from Mycroft’s mouth with a dirty wet sound and the politician’s bright blue eyes looked into Greg’s dark brown ones.

‘Gregory...’

‘Nn,’ Greg managed, still staring at Mycroft’s mouth.

‘Do you want me?’

Greg blinked and looked up at him. ‘W-what?’

‘Do you want me?’ Mycroft repeated. His own fingers were tracing patterns on Greg’s palm and when they moved to the DI’s wrist he shivered again, cock achingly hard between his legs.

‘Y-yes,’ Greg said weakly.

Mycroft smiled. ‘Excellent.’ He stepped forward, dropping Greg’s hand in favour of holding his face. Greg’s eyes went wide as Mycroft leaned forward and pressed their lips together.

There was a second of soft kissing until Mycroft’s lips turned hungry, sucking on Greg’s own. Greg moaned and wrapped his arms around Mycroft’s shoulders, pushing them both together. Mycroft groaned and it went straight to Greg’s already aching cock.

The DI slipped his tongue out, lapping at Mycroft’s sweet and sticky lips before being allowed in. He plunged into Mycroft’s mouth, tasting ice cream and chocolate and _Mycroft_. It was delicious, heavenly, and made Greg’s head fuzzy and body thrum. He’d never imagined kissing Mycroft Holmes before that night and suddenly it was all he ever wanted to do.

Greg knew that probably wouldn’t happen. He hadn’t even known Mycroft was open to having sex with another man. Men like Mycroft Holmes, though, _didn’t_ want men like Gregory Lestrade... well, not for anything other than fun. But right then Greg would take it; he’d deal with the aftermath of sleeping with Sherlock’s brother after he’d actually done it.

‘God, Mycroft,’ Greg groaned when they broke apart, both breathing heavily. Greg’s chest was heaving as Mycroft pressed hot, wet kisses to his jaw, moving across to his ear and licking seductively. Once again Greg’s knees felt weak and he fisted his hands in Mycroft’s expensive shirt.

Mycroft didn’t seem to care, instead intent on sending Greg mad with kisses alone. He licked a trail down Greg’s tanned neck before one hand came up to flick his buttons open. Mycroft was skilled at taking clothes off just like with everything else he did. Soon Greg’s shirt was pooled on the floor as the elder Holmes latched onto his neck and sucked.

Greg groaned embarrassingly loudly, eyes flicking shut as Mycroft continued to bite and lick. When he moved away Greg’s neck glowed red with a very obvious hicky. And in this heat Greg couldn’t hide it; everyone he saw would know he’d had sex.

Greg couldn’t bring himself to care, not when Mycroft bit him again, teeth sharp and tongue warm as he sucked his skin into a bruise.

Greg had to get some type of friction on his cock and pushed forward, rutting against the younger man’s leg. Mycroft allowed him, pushing his own thigh forward, knee teasing his trapped cock so wonderfully.

‘F-Fuck,’ Greg gasped, burying his head into Mycroft’s neck. Even though he wanted to, Greg knew he couldn’t mark Mycroft in an obvious way. The man was the British Government and anything that altered his superior look wouldn’t be welcomed. Greg didn’t want this to stop, he didn’t want to annoy Mycroft, so instead he bit at the man’s shirt, the cotton hot on his tongue as he tried not to shout.

Mycroft was excellent at teasing and he moved to the other shoulder, licking and sucking, teeth only lightly sinking into his skin before moving away. One hand was ghosting over Greg’s side, raising goose-bumps everywhere it strayed. His other hand had more purpose, nails scratching at Greg’s back and making the older man buck into him.

Mycroft smiled against Greg’s skin, lips moving back up his neck and across his stubble-covered jaw. He captured Greg’s mouth again, heated kisses being exchanged as Mycroft continued to explore Greg’s torso. One hand pressed into Greg’s lower back as the other found his right nipple and flicked.

‘Ah,’ Greg groaned into Mycroft’s mouth, once again pushing into the other man. He swallowed and Mycroft’s tongue took its chance, thrusting into his mouth to thoroughly plunder the wet cavern. Greg was making little mewling noises in the back of his throat and couldn’t care less. He knew Mycroft could use all this to embarrass the fuck out of him, especially if he told Sherlock, but God what a way to die...

Mycroft’s tongue retreated only to suck Greg’s own into his mouth, teeth scraping lightly and making his tastebuds tingle. It seemed everything Mycroft did made Greg’s skin boil and his heart beat painfully quickly. He was reduced to a mumbling wreck, trying hard to get more of Mycroft, to somehow meld them together.

Mycroft’s lips pulled back and Greg whined. With a smirk, Mycroft pulled open a few of his buttons. ‘Don’t let me have all the fun,’ he said softly, voice laced with need. He pulled aside his collar to show Greg a pale, freckled shoulder.

Greg leapt forward, sinking his teeth into the politician’s skin. Mycroft groaned and fell back to lean against the fridge, eyes shut as Greg sucked back on his skin. Somehow he tasted delicious, body soft and warm beneath his lips. And the cologne he wore... God, Greg was glad he’d never noticed how much he wanted Mycroft Holmes. From this day on that smell would haunt his dreams.

Mycroft fisted a hand in Greg’s hair and pushed, forcing Greg to bite him again. It seemed Mycroft liked teeth being involved and Greg was more than happy to oblige. He licked slowly and carefully along his own teeth marks, Mycroft shivering against him, his own cock pressing into Greg’s stomach. It motivated Greg to bite again and suck as hard as he goddamn could, making sure Mycroft would be bruised for days. If this was his only chance, if this was the only time they were going to be together, then Greg wanted the elder Holmes to remember him.

Mycroft was moaning softly and rutting harder against Greg’s stomach. His cock felt as hard as Greg’s and the DI grinned. That he could make the enigmatic elder Holmes brother do that... it was addictive. He wanted to do it all the time, wanted to pull Mycroft apart bit by bit and remind him that he was human, that Greg had the power to make him come so hard he wouldn’t remember his own name.

With that in mind, Greg moved up to Mycroft’s lips and took a harsh kiss from him, lips bruising as they pressed roughly against the politician’s. The role reversal was almost funny; Mycroft was now slouching, legs weak as Greg took his mouth for all it was worth. Mycroft growled deeply when Greg moved away, his eyebrows drawn together in annoyance as Greg pulled back.

‘What?’ the DI asked, a hint of a tease in his voice. ‘What’s the matter?’

‘Gregory,’ Mycroft warned, swallowing thickly.

‘What?’ Greg repeated, hands coming up to press against Mycroft’s heated chest.

‘Greg,’ Mycroft said, trying for a normal voice but managing a rough wine. Greg grinned. ‘Don’t make me say it.’

‘Say what?’ Greg asked.

Mycroft growled again and tried to kiss Greg but the DI quickly avoided him. Greg was giggling now but he gasped when strong fingers wrapped around his biceps. Before he could say anything Mycroft had slammed him face-first into the fridge. The sudden cold made him gasp again and Mycroft pushed against him, hard cock nudging his arse.

‘That was very rude, Gregory,’ Mycroft hissed into the DI’s ear. ‘You invite me up here, stare at me as I try to eat, and then tease me... not very nice, do you agree?’

‘Uh,’ was all Greg could say, cheek and chest pressed strongly against the cold fridge. He tried to see Mycroft but the elder Holmes was on his other side, body still hot and firm against Greg’s back.

‘Apologise, Gregory,’ Mycroft whispered in his ear.

‘N-no,’ Greg said, hoping he didn’t sound as desperate as he was.

‘Apologise,’ Mycroft said and bit Greg’s ear, sucking the lobe between his lips. Greg moaned shamelessly and tried to push back, tried to get more of Mycroft’s cock against him, but the other man pulled his hips away.

‘Mycroft!’ Greg said, close to shouting now.

‘Apologise,’ Mycroft repeated, the word washing over Greg’s ear and making him shiver. ‘Apologise to me and I’ll fuck you to within an inch of your life.’

‘Jesus Christ,’ Greg groaned. He’d never heard Mycroft swear and... fuck, Greg’d never be able to walk again at this rate.

‘Apologise,’ Mycroft whispered, ‘and I’ll give you the best sex you’ve ever had.’

Greg was shivering now, the cold of the fridge and heat of Mycroft’s body making his body tingle. Mycroft’s words coiled straight to his cock and, if possible, just made him feel even harder. His hips were still moving, his arse aching to have something pressed against it.

Greg knew he couldn’t last, he’d never been this needy in his life. If he didn’t have sex with Mycroft in the next twenty minutes he’d curl into a ball and die.

‘I...’ Greg began before swallowing, ‘I’m s-sorry.’

‘For?’ Mycroft asked, lips ghosting over Greg’s jaw.

‘For... for teasing you,’ Greg murmured. Mycroft had moved into his line of sight, head tilted so he could look into Greg’s eyes.

‘And?’

Greg narrowed his eyes, showing defiance even though he said, ‘And for staring at you as you ate, that was rude.’

Mycroft smiled. ‘You’re very strange, Gregory Lestrade.’

‘And?’

Mycroft chuckled and pressed his body back against Greg’s, giving a good snap of his hips to nudge his had prick against the DI’s arse. Greg squeaked in surprise and promptly turned red, Mycroft chuckling again.

‘What do you want, Gregory?’ Mycroft asked as he continued to push, now effectively dry-humping the DI against his fridge.

‘I... want... you...’ Greg mumbled, eyes closed as fresh sensations spilled through his body.

‘How long have you wanted me?’ Mycroft asked, pressing a soft kiss to Greg’s jaw. ‘Tell the truth.’

Greg swallowed. ‘The truth?’ he asked and felt Mycroft nod. ‘Since you turned up in my office in only a shirt and trousers.’

Mycroft was staring at him, Greg could tell. He didn’t open his eyes, fearing Mycroft would now back off. ‘Only that long?’ Mycroft asked softly.

‘I’m sorry,’ Greg said, not sure why he was apologising. ‘I just never looked properly. I was married when we met and... and I stopped looking at guys when I got married.’ He gulped again. ‘But now that I’ve looked...’

He trailed off and shivered when Mycroft’s lips swept softly across his own. ‘Now that you’ve looked?’ Mycroft breathed softly.

Slowly Greg opened his eyes and looked up. Mycroft’s own bright blue eyes were completely overshadowed by lust, his pupils blown. His perfect pink lips were swollen and wet, his face flushed and hair mussed.

‘Now...’ Greg said and licked his lips, ‘... now I’ll never look away.’

Mycroft stared at him for a full minute, the silence thick and pressing. Greg felt for sure Mycroft was going to leave, right up to the moment Mycroft kissed him again, lips hungry and needy.

‘M-Mycroft?’ Greg said when they broke apart. Mycroft made him turn again, back now up against the fridge. Slowly Mycroft’s hands trailed up and down Greg’s chest and stomach before going up his neck, his face, and into his hair. He curled the silver strands through his fingers tightly and Greg gasped. ‘Mycroft?’

‘I don’t want you to look away,’ Mycroft said sternly, eyes flicking back to Greg’s. ‘Don’t look away.’

Greg wasn’t sure what was being asked of him but nodded all the same. He’d say yes to anything Mycroft Holmes suggested.

They were kissing again, Mycroft’s lips hard and demanding as they roughly assaulted Greg’s own. Greg just bowed down to the kiss, let Mycroft lead. He opened his mouth when Mycroft demanded it, let his mouth be plundered and searched. It made his head fuzzy again and his body feel weak yet strong with arousal at the same time.

Greg was shoved to the right and his arse bumped into the counter. He gasped but Mycroft stole it with another wet kiss, their lips now sloppy against each other. Mycroft’s hands had dropped from his hair and Greg felt one curl around his shoulder and pull until the DI was resting against Mycroft’s taller body. He was vaguely aware of something to his left opening but was too focused on snogging the shit out of Mycroft Holmes to care. His mum could have walked in right then and he wouldn’t have cared.

When something cold was pressed to his neck Greg _had_ to pull away. Gasping for air, he opened his eyes and turned to see another ice cream held in Mycroft’s delicate hand. ‘W-what?’ he said.

Mycroft grinned wickedly and hauled Greg in for another kiss before pulling away. Suddenly the DI was being led down the hallway to his own bedroom. Once there Mycroft pushed him onto the bed.

Greg bounced before settling, looking up as Mycroft Holmes stared at him, eyes tracing Greg’s naked body and clothed legs.

‘Strip,’ he ordered.

Greg didn’t know if Mycroft was always this dominant when having sex. Right then he didn’t care; Mycroft could be as dominant as he fucking wanted as long as he actually fucked Greg.

Mycroft watched with a smile as Greg slowly slipped from his socks and trousers, making sure to let his hands slide gently down his muscled legs. Greg kicked his trousers free and hooked his thumbs under the waistband of his boxers, stopping when Mycroft said, ‘No.’

Looking up, Greg saw that Mycroft was toying with his own buttons. He was breathing slightly heavier than before and Greg grinned; the politician must have liked his little strip, however brief it was.

Once again Mycroft’s eyes were roaming over him, now committing every strip of naked flesh to memory. When he’d slipped off his own shoes, Mycroft climbed onto the bed, forcing Greg to lie down as his knees came to a stop either side of Greg’s thighs.

Their cocks were now being forced together and Greg groaned. His arousal was a lot more obvious; his boxers had tented around his erection and the silk was very thin.

Mycroft smiled and dropped the ice cream he’d still been carrying to kiss Greg again. He wrapped one arm around the DI’s shoulders and pulled him up, Greg’s own arms going around Mycroft’s neck to keep himself in place.

Mycroft was thorough in his search; tongue licking at his teeth, his skin, his own tongue. When he drew back he licked strips across Greg’s lips, pace never faltering, not even a whimper leaving him.

Greg himself was panting and moaning, eyes shut as Mycroft licked at his face. Soon his hands had started moving again, rubbing up and down Greg’s exposed flesh. He started with Greg’s neck, fingers brushing along his sweaty skin and moving down to run through his chest hair. Greg groaned as Mycroft reached a nipple.

A sharp twist had him arching up into Mycroft, pain and pleasure mixing wonderfully through his tense body. He felt Mycroft smile against his skin, the politician once again licking and kissing his jaw.

Greg was just a lump, an occasionally twisting and jumping lump, as Mycroft methodically pulled him apart. So much for Greg doing it to _him_.

Mycroft’s fingers were put to good use as they ghosted up and down his arms, his side, making goose-bumps appear. Then his nails came into action, scratching deep, red stripes into Greg’s skin. Once again Greg was thrashing beneath him, hips pinned in place by Mycroft’s weight.

‘Shh,’ the politician breathed across his lips. Greg leaned up to kiss him, tongue threading with Mycroft’s to dance around. Mycroft was smiling again and allowed Greg to control the kiss as his hands continued their exploration.

Greg thought he might just die from arousal when Mycroft finally pulled back. The DI was a mess, panting heavily and covered in sweat. His face was scarlet, his body not fairing much better; there were at least twenty lines all over his arms and chest, bright red in the soft glow coming from the doorway. There were two very dark, purple hickies on the right side of his neck, four smaller and redder ones on the opposite side.

Very dark bruises marked his shoulders where Mycroft had bitten into him. There were teeth marks and everything and Mycroft looked at them, smiling as he rubbed one with a soft finger.

‘Look how beautiful you are,’ he murmured.

Greg just panted, eyes droopy as he watched Mycroft. He wanted to beg for more but wasn’t quite that far gone. Mycroft would have to do a bit more to have Greg begging.

Mycroft shifted back, trapped cock rubbing against Greg’s own and making them both whimper a bit. Mycroft managed to keep moving and picked up the ice cream, shedding the wrapper quickly. Greg watched as the politician bit into the top, sucking ice cream and chocolate into his mouth.

‘Mycroft?’ Greg questioned. Now seemed like a weird time to be eating.

Suddenly Mycroft’s lips were on his again and when Greg gasped, ice cream was pushed into his mouth. Mycroft’s tongue followed it and Greg nearly choked before he managed to roll his own tongue, the ice cream melting as they kissed.

Then he groaned. It was amazing, exquisite. Mycroft’s weight pressed down on him deliciously as they kissed, the chocolate sharp and sweet as the cold ice cream was melted by their heated mouths. Greg had never tasted anything as wonderful. He wished he could buy Mycroft Holmes-flavoured ice cream the next time he went shopping. All other food paled in comparison.

Greg eventually had to swallow and Mycroft licked his lips clean, pulling back. ‘Okay,’ Greg said. ‘I can see how that... um...’

Mycroft smirked and took another bite of ice cream. This time Greg leaned up, tongue pushing into Mycroft’s mouth. He wanted the politician to experience what he’d just had. He wanted ice cream to be ruined for the bloody man. He wanted Mycroft to think of this moment each time he sat down for dessert at those stupid posh restaurants he went to.

Mycroft moaned loudly and pushed his free hand through Greg’s hair, fingers twisting and adding bolts of pain to Greg’s sensitive body. The DI hissed but didn’t stop, tongue probing and forcing ice cream deeper into Mycroft’s mouth. When he swallowed he smiled and kissed Greg again before forcing him to lie back down.

Greg’s heart felt like it was going to burst. How long had it been since he’d walked into his office to find Mycroft waiting? How had a night of paperwork turned into... this?

Mycroft bit the ice cream delicately, pulling off the chocolate coating slowly. Greg watched, gulping as Mycroft ate all the chocolate, tongue seeming to appear each time even if it wasn’t needed. Greg’s eyes narrowed and he growled, ‘Stop fucking teasing me.’

Mycroft just smiled and finished his task, not stopping until there was only ice cream left. That was when things got slightly more interesting.

The tip of the ice cream was pressed to his nipple and Greg yelped, cock rubbing into Mycroft’s and making him moan. Mycroft circled the ice cream around Greg’s now hard nipple before moving to the next, leaving a trail of melted cream in his wake.

When he seemed satisfied, Mycroft bent forward to lap at the cream, a soft sound of enjoyment escaping his lips as he licked. Greg could only moan at the sensations; first cold, then tingling, now heat as Mycroft cleaned him. His nipples were aching when Mycroft did it again; circling softly, lapping quickly.

Melted ice cream dripped down Mycroft’s hand and splattered against Greg’s chest, making his chest hair stick to his skin. He felt overheated and sticky, completely debauched as Mycroft licked trails across his skin.

‘Jesus _fuck_ ,’ Greg groaned, trying to push his hips up. He managed a short, jerky movement, cock grazing along Mycroft’s trousers. He moaned softly and continued as Mycroft’s lips sucked at his right nipple, clearing it of sweat and ice cream.

‘Enjoying yourself?’ Mycroft asked when he drew back, blowing across Greg’s nipple and making the older man shiver.

‘F-fuck yes,’ Greg mumbled, blinking to try and see Mycroft properly.

Mycroft smiled. ‘I must say I didn’t plan on this when I entered Scotland Yard.’ He paused, head tilted as he gazed at Greg. ‘I’m glad this transpired.’

Greg rolled his eyes and managed to sit. ‘Shut up,’ he growled and bit into the softening ice cream, taking a chunk in his mouth. He threaded his fingers through Mycroft’s hair and tugged the other man forward, crashing their lips together.

Mycroft opened up immediately and their kiss was sweet, sloppy, hot and cold all at the same time. Mycroft moaned and dropped the ice cream in favour of latching onto Greg, smearing his shoulders in sticky cream. Greg couldn’t find himself to care about his sheets as he plundered Mycroft’s mouth, everything mixing together wonderfully.

Their kisses were getting less coordinated the hornier they got and suddenly Greg found one of Mycroft’s hands at his boxers. The politician slid off him and got his boxers down, Greg kicking them free and pulling Mycroft back.

They kissed for another minute before Mycroft drew back, eyes dropping to look at Greg’s groin.

His cock was thick and long, standing to attention and oozing pre-come along the DI’s shaft and stomach. Greg felt himself blush as Mycroft continued to stare, bright eyes roaming over him.

‘Um...’ Greg began before he was cut off, gasping when Mycroft wrapped a long, ice cream covered hand around his cock. ‘Shit!’

Mycroft smirked and kissed him again, tongue twirling around the DI’s as he made him lay back down. Greg whimpered into Mycroft’s mouth as the politician’s cold fingers moved up and down his shaft, spreading ice cream along the hot flesh. Greg’s body didn’t know if it should like it or not. While his cock needed the friction, Mycroft’s hand was cold from holding the ice cream and getting covered in the melting treat. Greg didn’t have to think for too long, though, because soon Mycroft decided he didn’t just want to touch anymore.

He moved down Greg’s jaw and neck, sucking to create a new hicky before continuing. He lapped at a nipple and Greg’s groan turned into a whine when Mycroft moved down again. He licked down Greg’s stomach, free hand squeezing the softening flesh that was a result of middle-age and too much time behind a desk. He lingered only long enough to dip his tongue into Greg’s bellybutton, smiling when the DI giggled; ticklish, store that away for later.

Finally, after what felt like a good fucking month of teasing, Mycroft’s tongue licked a strip down Greg’s cock. The DI bucked up into the touch and he was rewarded when Mycroft’s hot, wet mouth sank down over his cock.

‘Fucking Jesus Mary Fucking _Christ_!’ Greg shouted loudly. He was too far gone to worry about his neighbours, a nice elderly couple who as of yet hadn’t had to hear any part of Greg’s sex life (seeing as how he didn’t have one). Now, though... well, they were in for a noisy night, especially when Mycroft sucked back. ‘Fucking hell, Mycroft!’

Mycroft smiled around his cock, eyes glistening in the soft lighting. He didn’t try to hold Greg down, telling the DI he could push up as much as he wanted. He did just that, sinking his cock deeper and deeper into Mycroft’s mouth with each thrust. Soon he was all the way in, Mycroft swallowing when he was completely buried to stimulate the head of Greg’s cock.

The DI moaned and whimpered at the same time, mouth falling open as he let his hips drop. Mycroft’s hands were suddenly on his arse, squeezing the cheeks tightly and pulling. Greg sank back in and once again Mycroft swallowed, lips tightening and tongue lapping at the underside of Greg’s cock.

Greg wouldn’t last long, he knew it. This was his first shag in over a year. His balls were already tightening, a white haze descending ove his mind as massive amounts of pleasure raked his body.

And then there were fingers circling around the base of his cock, squeezing until Greg’s orgasm died down. He groaned and thrust his head back, body aching and the need to come overwhelming him.

‘Fuck you,’ he muttered.

Mycroft’s chuckle stimulated Greg’s cock, another bout of pleasure rolling through him.

‘Mycroft,’ he moaned in annoyance as the politician slipped off him, the head of Greg’s cock now resting against his lips. His tongue came out to lap at the slit, licking away pre-come and making Greg moan again.

Mycroft smiled and let Greg drop away. He shifted to kiss Greg again, the DI tasting himself on the politician’s lips.

‘Do you want me to fuck you, Gregory?’ Mycroft asked. ‘Because if not I can go back to taking you apart with my tongue.’

‘No!’ Greg shouted, arms coming up to wrap around Mycroft’s neck. ‘No, please, I need you to fuck me.’

Mycroft kissed him softly. ‘Are you sure?’ he asked.

‘Yes!’ Greg growled.

Mycroft chuckled again and pulled away. Greg let his arms fall and instead watched Mycroft, the politician standing and pulling at his shirt. One by one the buttons came free to reveal a pale and freckled torso. His skin wasn’t as white as Sherlock’s but paleness seemed to run in the family. Mycroft’s shoulders were slightly broader then his brothers and he was dusted with adorable freckles. His chest hair was ginger and Greg followed the trail right down to his bellybutton and to the waistband of Mycroft’s trousers.

Mycroft had paused, fingers on his belt, and Greg looked up at him. ‘Are you sure about this?’ Mycroft asked. ‘Having sex will change our relationship completely.’

Greg smiled slightly. ‘Mycroft, you’ve already sucked my cock, that’s sex.’

Mycroft said, ‘I meant anal sex.’

‘How is that any different than sucking my cock?’ Greg asked. ‘Or making out in my kitchen for a good half-an-hour? It’s a bit late to ask that question, Mycroft.’ Mycroft still looked worried and the DI rolled his eyes. ‘Didn’t I just say I needed you to fuck me?’

‘Yes...’

‘So fuck me already!’ Greg shouted.

Mycroft smiled and unlooped his belt, pulling his button and zipper open to let his trousers drop.

And that was when Greg discovered the wonderful little fact that Mycroft Holmes, the British Government, the most mysterious, dramatic, and dangerous man in England...

... wasn’t wearing any underwear.

Greg would have laughed if his entire attention hadn’t been captured by Mycroft’s cock. He was longer and thicker then Greg, at least eight inches tall and standing erect just for the DI. Pre-come coated most of his shaft and Greg licked his lips.

‘Come here,’ he demanded.

For once that night, Mycroft obeyed. He slid back onto the bed and Greg threw him down, Mycroft gasping harshly.

‘What?’ he asked. ‘Did I hurt you?’

Mycroft rolled onto his side and Greg looked down.

He giggled and Mycroft frowned. ‘Shut up.’

‘Forgot that was there, did you?’ Greg asked. ‘Off the bed.’

Mycroft complied, standing beside Greg as the DI grabbed his sheets and dragged them off.

‘Teaches you not to eat in bed,’ Greg said as he let the sheets drop to the floor. ‘Now there’s ice cream all over your back.’ He grabbed Mycroft and made him turn, tongue immediately coming out to lick at the man’s skin.

‘God,’ Mycroft moaned. It seemed he was finally letting go and Greg grinned as he cleaned cookies and cream ice cream from the politician’s skin. When he was clean he drew back.

‘Now, there are sheets in the hallway closet,’ Greg said. Mycroft raised an eyebrow and Greg made shooing motions with his hands. ‘Off you go.’

With a soft curse, Mycroft left the room and only came back when he had emerald green sheets folded over his arm. He watched as Greg made the bed, the DI bending to tuck the sheets under the mattress. Suddenly there were warm hands on his hips and Greg gasped as Mycroft’s cock slid between his cheeks.

‘Do you have lubricant?’ the politician asked.

Greg tried to remember the last time someone had called it, ‘lubricant’, as he said, ‘N-no, I haven’t had sex in a while.’

Mycroft tutted and pulled back, cock and hands leaving Greg feeling cold and annoyed. He stood and turned, only to be forced to his knees. Greg looked up to see Mycroft towering over him, cock now only millimetres from Greg’s lips.

‘We need lubricant,’ Mycroft said and thrust his hips forward. His cock pushed past Greg’s lips and sank into his mouth, both men groaning at the sensation. It had been too many years since Greg had last given a guy a blow job and it took him a minute to get a rhythm going.

When he did Mycroft moaned in satisfaction, one hand on Greg’s dresser, the other in his hair. He set the pace, fingers twisting in the DI’s hair as he thrust his hips forward and back.

Greg just did his best to enjoy the moment. Mycroft’s cock was gorgeously hot on his tongue and pre-come trickled into his mouth every time Mycroft pulled back. He let his lips wrap tightly around the head when Mycroft did and sucked, more pre-ejaculate spilling across his tongue.

Mycroft mumbled something under his breath before withdrawing, leaving Greg to lick his lips. ‘What?’ the DI asked.

He was pulled up, Mycroft’s warm arms wrapped around him and a soft, gentle kiss pressed to his lips.

‘I don’t want to come down your throat, Gregory,’ Mycroft said softly.

Though the words were dirty, the tone was endearing, and Greg grinned. He kissed Mycroft quickly and said, ‘Well, better fuck me then, hmm?’

Mycroft chuckled and made Greg lay on the bed on his back, head on the pillows and hands moving to grip the headboard. Mycroft shifted forward and ran his fingers along Greg’s stubble-covered jaw before drifting to his lips. Knowing what Mycroft wanted, Greg sucked two fingers into his mouth, spreading saliva with his tongue and making Mycroft moan.

With a smirk, Greg sucked extra hard before allowing Mycroft to pull his digits free.

‘Prat,’ Mycroft mumbled before moving.

‘Me?’ Greg demanded as his knees were pulled apart. ‘I’m not the one who teased _you_ for five fucking hours.’

‘It hasn’t been that long, Gregory,’ Mycroft tutted.

Greg growled, ‘It felt like a fucking mont– _fuck_!’ He shouted loudly when Mycroft’s index finger breached his tight hole, quickly being swallowed up to the knuckle.

‘Fuck are you tight,’ Mycroft moaned.

Once again the politician’s swearing had Greg’s cock twitching and he said, ‘Just hurry up, please!’

‘I don’t want to hurt you,’ Mycroft said before pulling his finger out slowly. He went back in and Greg groaned.

‘I-I know,’ he said breathlessly, ‘but Jesus Christ, I haven’t had sex in a year and I haven’t had sex with a man in twenty, so you’d better get your cock in my arse in the next minute or I swear to God I’ll rip your balls off!’

Mycroft just stared at him through the entire rant, smiling when Greg was done. ‘Is that so?’ he asked.

‘Yes,’ Greg grunted.

‘So I should move faster?’

‘YES!’

Mycroft smiled and pushed two fingers in.

‘Holy fuck!’ Greg shouted.

‘You have neighbours,’ Mycroft reminded him.

‘They can j-just fuck... fuck... off...’ Greg managed to get out. He was panting heavily, eyes squeezed shut and back arched as Mycroft continued to prepare him. Even with two fingers the DI was amazingly tight, muscles squeezing around Mycroft and making the politician want to jam his cock right in. But he couldn’t, not yet, Greg needed to–

‘Fucking hell!’ Greg groaned, close to tears. ‘Please, I can’t stand it, just fuck me already!’

Mycroft bit his slip. ‘Are you sure?’

‘YES!’

Mycroft could no longer ignore Greg’s begging, the way his body trembled and the way he purposely clenched around Mycroft’s digits. Slipping out, Mycroft grabbed Greg’s knees and pushed them open.

The DI looked wonderfully debauched; red, sweaty, eyes blown with lust and knuckles turning white where he gripped the headboard. Mycroft would never admit to how long he’d wanted this, how long he’d dreamed of seeing Gregory Lestrade beneath him and naked... well, maybe he’d admit it to Greg.

Mycroft shuffled forward on his knees until his cock was pushing against Greg’s slightly dilated entrance.

‘Mycroft...’ Greg said, body feeling like it was on fire. He _needed_ Mycroft right then and there or he’d combust. ‘P-please...’

Mycroft smiled. ‘I told you I’d have you begging,’ he said. He pushed in in one long, swift thrust, Greg shouting out and arching off the bed. Mycroft moaned loudly, completely swallowed by Greg’s tight hole. He stopped, didn’t want to cause Greg any more pain, and the DI slowly sank back down onto the mattress. He was panting heavily and clenching slightly around Mycroft’s cock. It was all the politician could do to not start fucking him hard. He’d never believed that he’d one day have Greg Lestrade in a bed. The man had been married, had appeared straight. But all that had changed when Mycroft had seen the looks Greg was throwing him in his office.

Mycroft leaned forward, sinking in deeper. Greg groaned as Mycroft’s lips found his, kissing him softly and slowly. Greg had felt wonderfully violated and stretched when Mycroft sank in but now his body needed a second to adjust, to find pleasure in a very long cock being shoved in his arse. Greg hadn’t been penetrated in years and he whimpered slightly as Mycroft kissed him.

‘Greg?’ the politician asked, looking at him in concern. ‘Are you okay?’

‘Y-yeah,’ Greg said breathlessly. ‘Just been... been a long time.’

Mycroft smiled and reached down to cup Greg’s cheek, thumb running along his skin. ‘For me too.’

Greg raised his eyebrows. ‘How long?’

Mycroft tilted his head to think. ‘Eight years since I was penetrated, seven years since I penetrated anyone, three years since I had oral sex, two years since I kissed anyone.’

‘Why?’ Greg asked.

‘Work and...’ Mycroft trailed off, hand suddenly tightening on Greg’s cheek.

‘Mycroft?’

‘It doesn’t matter,’ the elder Holmes shook his head.

Greg felt that there was more to it but when Mycroft shifted his cock slid out a bit and the DI groaned. Suddenly the reasons why Mycroft hadn’t had sex in so long were completely wiped from his mind.

‘Gregory?’ Mycroft asked.

‘I’m ready, please,’ Greg said. ‘Just... slowly, yeah?’

Mycroft smiled and kissed Greg again before pulling back. He slid all the way out before going back in slowly, Greg moaning beneath him. He kept up this pace, slowly stretching Greg more and more until pain became a thing of the past and there was only pleasure. Suddenly Greg’s legs were around his waist, hauling him in. He made Mycroft bend and gave the younger man a dirty, wet kiss, Mycroft moaning loudly against his lips.

‘Faster, now, please,’ Greg begged.

‘Mmf,’ was Mycroft’s reply as he pulled out and snapped his hips. He sank in deeply and quickly, Greg gasping at the sensations flooding his system. He’d missed this, had missed being completely filled and buggered. He’d tried to talk his wife into maybe doing something with a dildo but she’d always said no. Though a real cock was better, Greg hadn’t wanted to ever cheat on his wife and had hoped she’d at least be open minded to his thoughts.

But no, she’d always refused, and Greg had gone nineteen years without a good pounding. That was all changing tonight.

Mycroft was magnificent; stretching and filling Greg better then the DI had ever been before. His hands were rough on Greg’s arms, his cock slamming into him with abandon. He managed to angle himself to roughly graze Greg’s prostate, the sensation only enough to add little thrills to Greg’s already over-sensitive body.

‘Fuck, Mycroft,’ Greg whimpered, pushing down to meet the man’s thrusts. He rolled his hips, trying to get Mycroft deeper and deeper in. What he _didn’t_ want was Mycroft slipping out and pulling away. ‘What?’ he demanded.

Mycroft wrenched his fingers from the headboard and flipped him over, arm coming around Greg’s waist to hoist him up. Greg suddenly found himself on his hands and knees, twisting to look over his shoulder.

‘Myc–’

The politician sank back in quickly, filling Greg again and making him moan.

‘Shit on a stick,’ Greg grunted.

Mycroft couldn’t help but chuckle, hands moving up and down Greg’s sweaty back. ‘What was that?’

‘Shut the fuck up.’

‘You get awfully dirty when you’re being fucked,’ Mycroft commented.

‘Yeah, yeah,’ Greg muttered. It wasn’t something he could control, he’d always been rather loud and filthy when having sex, more so when he was being buggered. More than once he’d made his lip bleed trying to keep the screams down.

‘Be as vocal as you want, Greg,’ Mycroft said, leaning to kiss his shoulder. ‘I love hearing you scream.’

Greg smiled and managed to kiss Mycroft’s lips. ‘I might if you fuck me.’

Mycroft chuckled and drew back. He slammed back in, finally allowing himself to go now that Greg was prepared and willing. The DI swore loudly and let his head drop, cock bobbing between his legs as he was pushed back and forth. Mycroft’s hands were strong on his hips, fingertips bruising and nails digging in.

Greg barely felt that, barely felt anything other than Mycroft fucking him good and hard. His hole ached in a way he hadn’t felt in years and his cock was throbbing and hard. Being filled by a man, by Mycroft, was making Greg’s head swim with pleasure and his body tingle.

Suddenly he was being yanked up and fell to sit on Mycroft’s thighs. The politician was leaning back on his feet and wrapped one arm around Greg’s chest. In this position Greg felt Mycroft even more, his cock so long and thick it made Greg moan. The other man was very hot against him, soft chest hair tickling him and making him giggle.

‘Stop laughing,’ Mycroft said, pressing wet kisses to Greg’s neck.

‘Shave your chest then,’ Greg muttered.

Mycroft tweaked a nipple and Greg jumped, both groaning as he sank back down.

‘Prat,’ Greg muttered.

‘I thought you _wanted_ me to fuck you,’ Mycroft whispered, licking the DI’s ear.

‘I do but... um... shut up!’ Mycroft was chuckling and he made Greg turn so they could kiss properly.

‘Hush now.’

‘Fuck you.’

Mycroft smiled and kissed him again, lips soft and tender. Another feeling of need washed over Greg but it wasn’t the animalistic need for realise or the need to be fucked into the mattress.

It was the need for more; more human contact. He wanted Mycroft around all the time for these soft kisses, for the gentle press of lips and very light flick of a tongue. He wanted to feel Mycroft’s smooth, warm skin on him in the morning and at night.

Greg felt anger and sadness wash through him, smashing away the lust he’d been feeling only seconds before. He knew none of that would happen; this was just a quick fuck for Mycroft, a one-time thing, Greg was sure. After this they’d fall asleep and Greg would wake up alone, lucky to get a letter from the politician. And in the future when Greg saw the elder Holmes he’d blush and stutter until Sherlock shouted to all his team that their boss had allowed Mycroft Holmes to rogger the absolute fuck out of him.

‘Gregory?’ Mycroft asked, snapping the DI out of his thoughts.

‘Sorry,’ Greg murmured, ‘just... was thinking about something.’

Mycroft smiled slightly, lips brushing Greg’s stubble-covered skin. ‘What is so important that you’d forget I have my cock in your arse?’

Mycroft’s words sent a new wave of pleasure through Greg’s body and he shook his head. Thinking about what he couldn’t have would just make Greg depressed. He should have been enjoying his time with Mycroft, the pleasure the man could make him feel. Regrets could be thought about later.

‘Sorry,’ Greg repeated and twisted his head to kiss Mycroft again. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘Not a problem,’ Mycroft murmured. ‘Are you okay?’

‘Yeah,’ Greg nodded and pulled himself up. ‘Fine.’ He slid back down and groaned, Mycroft’s own moan spurring him on.

They were back to fucking, Greg bouncing up and down on the taller man, one of Mycroft’s arms still wrapped tightly around him. His free hand came up to thread through Greg’s spiky silver hair. He twisted the strands to keep Greg in place so they could kiss, each man plundering the other’s mouth.

Mycroft was pushing up, adding a delicious snap of his hips every time Greg was completely filled. It made the DI curse, a loud, ‘Mycroft!’ added every third or fourth cuss. He wasn’t even thinking about his neighbours now, didn’t care if his colleagues turned up claiming there was a noise complaint. All that mattered was Mycroft’s hot body behind his own, his shaft sliding into Greg’s tight entrance over and over, his lips sucking and tongue flicking.

‘Fuck, Mycroft, fucking hell!’ Greg groaned into the other’s mouth.

Mycroft was panting heavily and his arm dropped from Greg’s chest, moving across his stomach and brushing his bobbing prick.

‘Fuck!’ Greg shouted, louder than before. Mycroft wrapped his hand around Greg’s cock, pulling in time with their trusts.

‘Don’t come yet,’ Mycroft said. ‘Not yet.’

Greg groaned. ‘Please, I need to.’

‘No,’ Mycroft ordered.

The DI whimpered, head dropping to rest on Mycroft’s shoulder. His back arched when a nice, hard thrust slammed into his prostate, forcing Greg’s cock faster through Mycroft’s hand. He was dangerously close now, the heat and touch and Mycroft’s breath on his face all becoming too much.

‘P-please,’ he whimpered. Neither were young men, they couldn’t go forever. Greg was amazed they’d held out this long.

Mycroft pulled out and made Greg lay down, once more on his back with his knees spread. Mycroft sank back in and Greg shouted in pleasure, legs again wrapping around the politician’s back.

Mycroft shifted to kiss Greg, hand snaking up to wrap around his hard and dripping cock. ‘Come,’ he said softly, licking Greg’s lips. ‘Come with me, Greg.’

‘R-really?’ Greg groaned, closing his eyes and tilting his head back.

‘Yes,’ Mycroft nodded, slamming into the DI roughly. ‘I can’t... I can’t go any long-longer...’

Mycroft bent over Greg to fuck him harder than before, thrusts haphazard and fist tight on the DI’s leaking cock.

‘Mycroft,’ Greg groaned, his release once more crashing towards him. ‘Mycroft... Mycroft... MYCROFT!’

His back arched and his eyes rolled into the back of his head as he came, leaking over Mycroft’s fist and his stomach. His moan was captured by Mycroft, who had crashed their lips together a split second before Greg’s climax. The DI tightened around Mycroft, who came with a loud cuss, mumbling Greg’s name as his hips stalled.

Greg felt Mycroft’s release slick his insides and groaned, panting heavily as Mycroft rested their foreheads together. A minute or two passed before Mycroft slipped out slowly, both wincing as their bodies became hyper-sensitive.

Mycroft rolled onto his back, eyes closed and limbs splayed about. One arm was still over Greg, sliding through the sticky mess on the DI’s stomach. Greg tried to blink back to reality but could barely keep his eyes open. He was feeling wonderfully fucked; muscles aching, limbs feeling like led, and head clearer then it had been in years.

‘T-towel,’ Greg mumbled before yawning. ‘Clean... up...’

Something dry was pressed to Greg’s stomach and he looked down.

‘That’s...’

‘Your shirt,’ Mycroft said, smirking when Greg’s eyes narrowed.

‘Prat,’ he muttered once Mycroft had bent his legs to clean his aching hole.

He hissed slightly and Mycroft said, ‘Sorry.’

‘Don’t... matter...’ Greg yawned again. Mycroft threw the soiled shirt aside and Greg rolled over, pressing his body into Mycroft’s.

‘No blanket?’ the politician asked.

‘Mm,’ Greg mumbled before his mind gave up and let him fall asleep.

Mycroft watched as Greg started snoring softly, face nuzzled into his shoulder, one arm over his waist. The politician smiled and leaned down to press a soft kiss to Greg’s forehead.

He put one arm over the DI and drew him, closing his own eyes. When sleep took him, the only person on his mind was Gregory Lestrade.

 

{oOo}

 

Greg was woken by something cold being pressed to his lips. His eyes slid open and when he yawned the object was stuffed into his mouth. Choking, Greg spluttered and sat up, an ice cream falling from his lips.

‘Gregory,’ Mycroft tisked, picking up the ice cream by the wooden handle and holding it out for Greg.

‘Well sorry for nearly choking,’ Greg grumbled, taking the ice cream from Mycroft. They were both still in bed, the covers drawn up. Mycroft was sitting against the headboard smiling at Greg, an ice cream in his hand.

It took Greg a second to realise it was morning, his alarm clock telling him it was six. What surprised Greg the most was that Mycroft was still there, still in bed, still naked. His hair was mussed up from slip, sticking up adorably wildly and making him look ten years younger. He had his legs crossed beneath the covers, shoulder pressed into Greg’s as he ate his own ice cream.

Greg smiled slightly, warmth spreading through his body. Mycroft was still there... it had to mean something, right? It had to mean that Mycroft actually cared about him. the politician could have run out the night before while Greg was still asleep but he hadn’t.

‘Gregory?’ Mycroft asked, looking sideways at him.

‘Sorry,’ Greg said and bit into his ice cream, savouring the coolness, the hard chocolate and soft cream.

Mycroft smiled and licked at his own, already having striped the outer layer of chocolate. Greg got lost between his second and third bite, instead more than happy to watch Mycroft’s soft tongue lap at the ice cream slowly.

‘Gregory?’ the politician questioned again, one eyebrow going up.

‘Uh...’ Greg mumbled, eyes slowly drifting up to Mycroft’s face. He blushed and looked down.

‘Now, now, no need to be embarrassed,’ Mycroft said, curling his thumb and index finger around Greg’s chin. He pulled his face up slowly and smiled. ‘You are allowed to look at me.’

‘I am?’ Greg asked.

‘Yes,’ Mycroft said. ‘I see many shared treats in our future, Gregory Lestrade,’ Mycroft said and smiled wickedly. ‘And I’m not just talking about the ice cream.’

Greg felt his heart leap into his throat. Had... had Mycroft just said that he wanted to continue this? Did he want more than a one-time, or part-time, shag?

‘Gregory?’ Mycroft said when the DI failed to speak. ‘Did I say something wrong?’

Greg launched himself at the taller man and they both tipped back on the bed, barely holding onto their ice creams as Greg attacked Mycroft’s lips. They exchanged sloppy, wet kisses, lips cold from their food but quickly warming up.

‘G-Greg?’ Mycroft managed after they’d broken apart.

‘Sorry, sorry,’ Greg apologised, shifting so he was still lying on the younger man but not crushing him under his weight.

‘What was that?’ Mycroft asked.

‘Just... happy, is all,’ Greg said, smiling when Mycroft grinned at him.

‘Excellent,’ the elder Holmes said and grabbed Greg’s hand. Instead of kissing it, he shoved the ice cream back into Greg’s mouth, the DI choking again.

‘Prat,’ Greg grumbled, licking melted ice cream from his lips.

Mycroft just smiled and licked Greg’s lips clean.

They finished the box of ice creams a few hours later.

And had a damn fun time doing it.

 

{THE END}

 

****

****


End file.
